


Tavekriti

by Triscribe



Series: Inspired by Fia [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Mythology - Freeform, Tatooine Slave Culture, Wolrd-building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 00:05:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19139581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triscribe/pseuds/Triscribe
Summary: In many of their tales, Ekkreth takes the form of a little red bird to escape the Slave Master's clutches; but just how did the Trickster come by such a shape in the first place?





	Tavekriti

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fialleril](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fialleril/gifts).



Listen closely, for I tell you this story to save your life.

One day, as Ekkreth was walking along, they found themselves accosted by a little red bird with black wings and grey eyes, which flitted all about their head and refused to be shooed away. Bemused, Ekkreth stopped, and addressed the small creature. “Little one, why do you pester me so? What have I done to earn your ire?”

“It is nothing you have done,” the bird replied. “But my mate sits injured in our burrow not far ahead, and if you keep to your current course, Trickster, you will surely trod upon the entrance and harm him further.”

“You could have simply asked me to alter my path, then,” Ekkreth said.

“I was afraid you’d laugh, and deliberately stomp as you went, the same as Depur’s servants when they came this way - that was how my mate came to be injured in the first place, and our eggs crushed at the same time.”

Good humor gone, Ekkreth bowed their head. “My sorrow for your loss, little one. Gladly, I will avoid your home, if you would be so kind as to guide me around it.”

The bird settled upon Ekkreth’s shoulder, and soon steered them through the sandy gullies and out the other side without incident. Before leaving, however, the animal took a moment to look Ekkreth in the eye.

“Travel towards the Leaking Cup for two nights and Grandmother’s Hand for a third, and at the base of the leftmost cliff you will find a small spring with clean water and many bugs to eat. Clean your tracks as you go, however, or Depur’s slavers may find and pursue your trail.”

Touched, Ekkreth pulled out their water pouch and an empty nut shell; they poured a few drops and offered the tiny container to the bird, who delicately took it with a claw. “For you and your mate, little friend, along with my thanks.”

They parted there, the bird returning home and Ekkreth journeying north towards the stars called the Leaking Cup. But that was not the end of their story.

On the second night that they walked, Ekkreth saw the glow of firelight ahead, and slowed their steps. When they could hear the sound of raucous, cruel laughter, the Trickster changed their shape to resemble a dune snake, silently slithering across the warm sand to peek over shallow dune.

Several of the servants who caught new slaves for Depur lounged around a wasteful bonfire, helping themselves to food and drink, while a small family with chains around their wrists huddled together nearby. Angry, Ekkreth wound their way around the camp, coming to a stop close to the slaves. A heavy staple pinned their central chain to the bedrock, impossible for hands alone to pry up.

Ekkreth, though, had many tricks besides clever hands.

Before acting, however, they started to sing a soft, crooning lullaby, watching as the slave family heard it and stilled where they sat.

“~Oh Brother, my Brother, the cup that we stole,

It’s leaking, my brother, that cup has a hole~

Place it we must in our grandmother’s hand,

Perhaps she can fix it, with sun-heated sand~

If not then we’ll go to the left of the wall,

And hide the cup there, in a hole so small-”

“Hey!” One of the slavers shouted. “Shut that singing and go to sleep!”

Ekkreth immediately stopped, though when the man returned to his meal, they could hear at least one of the slaves humming their tune. Satisfied that the instructions had been received, Ekkreth settled in to wait.

Depur’s slavers gradually fell to sleep, their fire dying down to embers. Only a single man remained on guard, facing away from the chained slaves. Ekkreth seized their moment to act, and slithered forward into the family’s midst. One small child nearly squeaked, but her mother’s fingers squeezed her own, reassuring.

Oh so slowly, Ekkreth pushed and wiggled their way in-between the staple and the chain, scales as hard as the Great Mother’s bones forcing a gap to form. After Ekkreth passed through completely, they turned around to repeat the action, making their form a bit bigger around. Again and again they slipped between, creating a larger and larger gap, until the staple came free completely.

“Go,” they whispered to the grateful family. “I will make a distraction for you.”

That said, the Trickster slipped away from them, around the far side of the camp and up the side of a dune. They waited until the moonglow illuminated the stretch of sand directly in front of the guard before crossing it. He noticed, and froze.

Gleeful, Ekkreth slowly slithered closer, until they came to a stop coiled around the man’s feet. Clearly terrified of potentially being struck by poison fangs, the guard remained stock still for _hours,_ until all three moons had set and the first sun’s glow could just be seen in the sky.

It was obvious when the other slavers awoke by their furious shouts. Ekkreth picked their head up to watch as some ran to the spot the family had been chained, and others hurried to the tops of the dunes around their camp, searching in vain for some sign of where the escapees had fled.

One, though, came towards Ekkreth and their trapped guard - the enraged Taskmaster.

“You!” The woman shouted. “Why did you not wake us when the slaves were escaping?! Face me when I address you, coward!”

Stammering, the guard could do nothing but point downwards, at Ekkreth. The Taskmaster followed his gesture, eyes widening when she finally noticed the massive dune snake. Unlike the petrified guard, however, she was able to act on her fear instead of freezing in place. Drawing forth a knife, the Taskmaster held it up to throw.

Ekkreth took that as their cue to leave.

Fast as lightning, the Trickster launched forward, easily avoiding the blade and curving up the side of a dune. Finally free, the guard they’d held prisoner all night collapsed, tripping up the Taskmaster as she tried to follow Ekkreth.

“Get that snake!” The woman shouted, struggling to get back to her feet. “I want its hide!”

Laughing, Ekkreth hurried onward, eager to gain a bit more distance before they assumed the shape of the rappali bird and took to the sky-

-but the Taskmaster had more than bladed weapons hung from her belt.

A heavy weight suddenly came down overtop of Ekkreth, and they rolled to a startled halt. Thrashing, the Trickster tried to get out from under the thick oilcloth, but a great many bodies piled on, weighing them down. The muffled sound of the Taskmaster’s voice rang out, ordering her underlings to secure the cloth around their prize.

Trapped inside the newly formed bag, Ekkreth struggled as the slavers carried them back to the camp. Before long, they were dropped onto the flat surface of a sled, the bunched folds of the oilcloth secured with more than enough rope to keep the Trickster from finding an opening.

For three days and nights, Ekkreth could do nothing but sit in place, unwilling to reveal their true self until a clear escape route appeared. The guards would laugh as they kicked the bag, discussing how fine the dune snake’s scaly skin would look stretched out upon Depur’s palace wall. Frustrated more than fearful, the Trickster hissed in reply.

Then came the moment when their patience paid off.

Something small landed atop the folds of the bag, and began to nudge at the loops of rope holding it shut. Ekkreth awoke from their doze but did not move. More nudges and tugs proceeded to loosen the bindings, just enough that a tiny sliver of an opening appeared. Quickly, Ekkreth took the shape of a kirik fly and buzzed through it.

Their friend, the little red bird, chirped as soon as the Trickster appeared. “I am glad to see you alive, Trickster. The family you sent to my spring were all quite concerned, and would not leave off their pestering until I promised to come looking.”

“Then I will forever be in their debt, and yours as well, my friend,” Ekkreth replied. After a moment’s consideration, they changed their shape again, to match the bird before them. “In fact, from now on, when I escape from Depur and his servants’ clutches, I will do so looking like you, Tavekriti - so that all the Great Mother’s Children will know you are a friend and ally.”

Laughing, the two of them took flight together from the sled, the Taskmaster driving it unaware of her prize flitting off into the sky.

True to their word, whenever Ekkreth had reason to live up to their name and go walking in the sky, they did so in the form of a little red bird, with black wings and grey eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Amatakka translations:  
> -Tavru, red  
> -Ekrit, bird  
> -Rappali, little mouth, Tatooine's version of a Nightjar  
> -Ekkreth, the Trickster, the Skywalker  
> -Depur, the Master, the Slave Owner
> 
> The slave culture words and headcanons belong to Fialleril, a fantastic world-builder with accounts both here and on tumblr - I highly recommend going to see all the other amazing things posted there!
> 
> Thanks for letting me play in your sandbox, Fia  
> -Tri


End file.
